


The name that history wrote

by elareine



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dragons, Genderbending, Getting Together, Harry Potter AU, Harry Potter Fusion, M/M, Triwizard Tournament, Violence, but not main characters, but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 10:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10965507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament wasn’t meant to be fun, not really, not for the participants. Jack figured that out fairly quickly.This was how a war began.





	The name that history wrote

**Author's Note:**

> This is wholly self-indulgent.

Ten

 

Dinweth was, in all honesty, pretty impressive.

It was a fucking castle, with towers and a lake and woods and likely dungeons, too. It was very British, was what Jack was getting at here. Their teacher shooed them from the ship into the castle immediately, but Jack took a second to let his eyes linger on the grounds. It was still mild temperatures here, all open grounds and no Muggles anywhere close by. It made him itch to fly.

He half expected the teacher who greeted them in the great hall to have a British accent, too, all posh and BBC. Actually, it turned out to be a pretty fit looking and rather young dude looking awkward as he said: "Hi, I'm Sidney Crosby. Welcome to Dinweth. I hope you have a pleasant stay. Please sit and eat. Bonne appetite."

The Redseth students looked at each with wide eyes for a moment - Mr. Quick always talked for at least half an hour. Everyone started tucking in. Their food was even still hot, it was witchcraft (haha).

"I like this place," Zack murmured after a few minutes of them enjoying some excellent roast beef, chicken wrapped in bacon, mashed potatoes and whatever the fuck the fries with the brown and white mass on top where supposed to be, and a chorus of _hmms_ agreed with him.

Then, once the meal was over, Mr. Crosby stood again. This time, Mr. Quick and a very tall woman clothed all in black came to join them.

Silence fell over the room. Jack could feel the anticipation in the air. "As you've probably noticed, we have some visitors this year. Would you like to introduce yourself?"

The woman smiled. "Alexandra Mikhailovna Ovechkina, headmistress of Proksia. You will be able to tell my students apart at once because we are better dressed." Jack looked at the group that swathed all in light blue without any cape in sight and had to concede that as true.

"Thank you, Sid, for the invitation." Ms. Ovechkina continued, then turned to Mr. Quick. Following her example, he shortly introduced himself. Two more men joined them, both the North American ministry's emissaries, Gary Bettman andAlexander James.

Then Mr. Crosby took over again. "As we explained before, everyone who put their name into the cup at the end of last year has nominated themselves for the tournament. Is there anyone who would like to retract their consent?"

Silence.

Mr. Crosby nodded. "Then, keepers, you may let the Stanley Cup do its work."

Proksia went first. It took the cup a few minutes of smoke, glitter and various magical effects to spit out a piece of paper. The headmistress picked it up. "Ivan Vladimirovich Provorov!" she called out, pride obvious in her voice. Everyone from Proksia cheered when Provorov made his way to the cup.

Redseth was next. Jack could feel his hands tremble, so he shoved them into his pockets. He didn't know what scared him more - the thought of someone else's name on that piece of paper, or his own.

It wasn't like Jack was sure he was going to be nominated for the Triwizard tournament. Noa, in his opinion, had great chances too. And sure, Auston was technically disqualified since he was in grade six, but Jack wouldn't put it past him.

But he didn't exactly think him being chosen is unlikely, either, so he had spent part of the summer practicing his defense against the dark arts and transformation spells whenever he wasn't working. He'd probably been better off studying for potions since that was his biggest weakness, but ugh, potions.

Still. He was ready.

And: "Jack Eichel!" Mr. Quick called out. Despite everything, it took a moment it to register, and even longer to make his way to the front. When he turned to stand next to Provorov, giving him a friendly nod, he could see his own school cheering, clapping and whistling for him, Noa the loudest of all. Man, he loved his school sometimes.

All the more reason to be a good representative. Show that they weren't on the Dark Side anymore.

The air became a lot tenser when everyone realized that meant it was time for Dinweth to choose a representative. Jack could have sworn the cup took even longer this time. Still, surely there wouldn't be any surprise?

Mr. Crosby finally took the piece of paper and read: "Connor McDavid!"

Nope. No surprise. The whole of Dinweth, it seemed, cheered as the hero of the wizarding world made his way to the front.

Huh. So that was Connor McDavid. Jack had seen him in news articles before, of course - who hadn't? Then again, Jack had only seen pictures of him on a broom, since those were the articles that compared the two of them. In person, he looked a lot taller, and more muscular than wiry, even though he wasn't exactly broad.

He smiled at Jack, and Jack smiled back, but he wasn't sure that either of them meant it.

 

Nine

 

They drew lots. Predictably, Jack got the short straw. It wasn't too bad, though. He didn't get that nervous, and Provorov looked ready to throw up, so Jack preferred him out of this small room as quickly as possible. Still, they had to wait while the crowd arrived and whatever it was that awaited them was prepared outside.

The room was soundproof. Jack wished he'd thought to bring a book with him. Fucking wizards and their adversity to mobile phones. Twitter would have been perfect right now. But no, no muggle technology on the grounds, blah blah blah. Who the fuck would look at instant messaging and choose an owl? Wizards.

Though Jack supposed he'd not be allowed a phone if this was a muggle place either. His friends could warn him, or something.

Finally, Mr. Bettmann and Mr. James appeared, a reporter on their side. "Mr. Provorov, it's your turn." Provorov, still looking distinctly green, left, and luckily, Mr. Bettmann and the reporter went with him. Jack didn't really want pictures of him looking bored before the big challenge (or whatever they'd come up with this time) in the papers.

Mr. James remained, presumably to keep an eye on Connor and Jack. Jack glanced at Connor, who was staring into nothing. What did they expect them to do? The papers could hype them up as the next great Quidditch players all they wanted - they didn't even know each other. They shared some classes, sure, but Jack was pretty sure they'd exchanged maybe twenty words max so far.

Twenty quiet minutes later, Connor was called by Mr. Bettmann. He nodded to Jack while he got up: "Good luck."

Damn, dude was polite. Jack didn't even think of saying something encouraging. "You, too."

After that, the silence felt harsher. Jack tried really hard not to imagine what was out there. "Get the golden egg" was a rather, uh, unhelpful instruction.

There had been one wizarding tournament where the first round consisted of gigantic spiders. Noa had gleefully speculated on them repeating that, though Jack thought that the nest living in Dinweth's woods was probably just a rumor. (Probably. At least, he hadn't found them yet.)

There had also been something that, to Jack, suspiciously sounded like zombies. No one had made it through that year's tournament though. After that particular chapter of "Tormenting Tales of the Triwizard Tournament," Jack had put the book away.

Finally, Mr. Bettmann showed up and waved at Jack. The walk through the tunnel to the field of the stadium felt longer than it ever had before a quidditch match. Dread was turning his feet to lead.

That feeling vanished instantly when he saw what awaited him.

It was a fucking dragon. A real Clouded Walker, big, gray and _beautiful_. Jack could feel his mouth murmur "Awesome!", which the guys would doubtlessly give him shit for, but dude. _Dragons_.

It honestly took him a few second to focus back on the task at hand. The golden egg was, rather predictably, next to some actual dragon's eggs in the nest. It wasn't that far from where Jack was standing. All that was between him and the next round was a wary dragon turning angrier by the minute.

Well, no surprise. Dragons didn't really deal well with noise. This crowd must be the equivalent to a mosquito swarm surrounding a naked human.

The thing was: Clouded Walkers weren't great fliers. There was one incredibly easy way for Jack to get past the Clouded Walker. Too bad it would also have gotten him arrested.

So Jack set to work. First, a basic, if big, silencing charm.

While the dragon was processing the sudden quietness, he bent down and picked up some pebbles. Easier to have something to transform from, after all. Then, with one eye on the dragon tail that was still swishing back and forth, he concentrated on the smell and taste he associated with chocolate, and said: "Dulcio!."

Fucking yes. There was now a giant back of Swiss chocolates in his hands. (Hey, dragons were snotty as shit, okay?)

Immediately, the dragon's snout whipped around to him, looking rather like a cat that had spotted some whipped cream. Jack smiled. Bingo.

Carefully, not taking his eyes off the dragon, he set down one chocolate bunny on the ground in front of him. Then he took a few steps backward.

Here was the thing: It was incredibly difficult to gain a dragon's trust. Clouded Walkers, though? They fucking loved chocolate. Like. _Getting high_ loved it. The Walker held out for almost a minute - then it burst forward and gobbled up the bunny.

Jack didn't push it, didn't offer any chocolate directly from his hand, didn't get close to the dragon. He just very gently drew it away from the nest and fed it more and more chocolate until it just kinda belly-flopped down and over, purring very loudly. Jack had to resist trying to pet its belly, honestly, it looked so happy.

Keeping his movements slow and steady, he put down most of the chocolate in case it felt like some more, then made his way towards the nest. He really, really didn't want to alarm this amazing creature, chocolate high or no.

But the silence spell and the taste and smell of chocolate seemed to have done its job. It didn't even seem to notice Jack creeping towards the nest and taking that one cuckoo's egg. (Or maybe it did, but figured it could afford to lose the one that wasn't hers, anyways, as long as he paid his dues first. Jack honestly didn't put anything past dragons.)

As soon as he touched the eggs, all the noise came flooding back in for Jack. A panicked glance at the dragon told him that it was still holding up for her, or else he'd be eaten by now.

"Jack Eichel with twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds!" a voice boomed. "Finishing second place!"

Jack smiled and allowed himself to feel relief.

 

Eight

 

They hid away the dragons under the biggest don't-look-spell Jack had ever seen. No wonder he didn't notice them before. (No, Noa, that didn't mean the spiders could be real, too.) Now, though, the huge cages were visible again, and it took Jack no time to get Mr. Quick to sign off permission for him to go visit them.

A redhead in his twenties greeted him. "Let me guess - you're the one who fed my Clouded Walker chocolate? She's still purring."

"Sorry about that," Jack apologized sheepishly. "I hope the withdrawal won't be too bad for you."

The redhead laughed. "We're used to it. She still goes on raids occasionally. Lindt was a good choice. Charlie Weasley."

"Jack Eichel." Jack shook his hand.

"And you?" Weasley asked, which was the first warning Jack had that someone was standing behind him.

"Sorry, didn't mean to creep up on you," Connor McDavid apologized. Probably saw Jack jump in surprise. "I only wanted to check whether the hornbill is okay? She crushed her tail pretty badly."

"A Hungarian Horntail? How did you get past her?" Those are a lot more vicious than the Walkers. What the fuck did they think when they let a teenager go up against that? The chances of the teen getting eaten were pretty high, and then they'd of course go and punish the poor beast.

"Accio'd a broom. Got it up into the air and then dove down," Connor explains simply.

"That's a fucking great idea," Jack admits, voice tinged with envy. Simple, but clever. Why didn't he think of that?

Suddenly, Weasley turned back to Jack. "What would you have done against a horntail?"

"Less chocolate, same silence, more blood," Jack replied without really thinking. "Distract her with some fresh sheep or something - like something she has to chase - turn myself smaller than whatever else she sees as potential food, then run like hell. Broom worked better, though," he conceded, nodding towards Connor.

Weasley ignored that. "And a Crystal Dutch?"

Jack grimaced. "Rare flowers? Music? Like, I know jewels and stuff are the way to go, but I'm not getting the karats right, and they notice. Maybe an illusionary beautiful maiden or something, depending on how old she is."

"If she was older? Let's say over a hundred?"

"No way," Jack shrugged. He was starting to feel like in a pop quiz, but old Mr. Scamander had done the same all the time. "They've seen everything, the old one. If she survived that many knights, my best bet is being fast and in and out as quickly as possible. She won't be distracted. Also, definitely fireproofing myself for that one. Probably should have done that today, but Mr. Scamander told me he suspected dragons smell those on you and instantly take you as a threat."

Weasley broke out into a wide smile. "You want a job?"

Jack blinked. "Huh?"

"I work at the Romanian dragon sanctuary. We could use more people like you. You wanna come to us, send me an owl. Oh, and the hornbill is fine, they're tough as hell," Weasley told Connor, then sauntered off towards the Walker's enclosure.

For a moment, Connor and Jack stood there in baffled silence.

Then Connor said: "Uh, congratulations? Uh. That was one hell of a job interview," and Jack couldn't help but break into laughter.

"How do you even put that on your CV?" he gasped. "‘Didn't die right away'?"

"Luckily survived going head to head with an angry dragon for sports?" Connor suggested, now laughing too.

"Yeah, this isn't doing a good job convincing my family that my school isn't batshit insane about health and safety."

Connor shook his head, still smiling. "Don't lie, you enjoyed today."

"Of course," Jack said, because _of course_. "Never said I wasn't, either. You're clearly on an adrenaline high too, or you wouldn't be bouncing around in the forest at midnight."

"Fair," Connor concedes, "though I _was_ looking for you, too."

"Oh?"

Connor's face turned serious. Jack kinda missed the laughter a bit. "Looks like Provorov's injury is a lot worse than they suspected. Concussion and everything. And since he didn't get the egg, either... he'll have to sit out the rest of the tournament."

Jack suppressed the urge to curse not all that successfully. "Fuck. I hope he gets better soon."

"Yeah." There was a pause, then studied indifference in Connor's voice as he continued: "Looks like it's just you and me now."

Jack looked at him - standing tall and ramrod straight, but tense enough it made his shoulders contract in sympathy - and slapped him on the back. "Dude, not that I'm not competitive or anything," he told him as Connor jumped in surprise, "but this is the Triwizard Tournament. If we get out of this intact and both alive, that's pretty good. We're already the best just by competing at this level."

Connor stared at him.

"I'd want to beat the hell out of you in a quidditch match, though," Jack added.

Connor burst into laughter again. This time, he didn't stop until Weasley came back to tell them to go the fuck to bed.

 

Seven

 

"You wanna go fly?"

"Nah," Noa waved him off, "I need to finally do that potions essay. So should you, actually."

"Ugh, potions," was Jack's only answer.

Noa laughed and turned towards the staircase, while Jack was gonna head outside. Except he was stopped within two steps by Connor asking: "Mind if I join?"

Jack considered that for a moment. He was really curious to actually see Connor fly in person. "Sure," he told, "I got my broom in your quidditch storage. Yours, too?"

Probably a stupid question, seeing how Connor was captain of one of the house teams, but Connor nodded. "Cool. Thanks."

They were quiet on their way to the shed - Jack didn't really know what to say, and he figured it was the same for Connor. Connor's bag made an audible clunk when he put it down on the floor to search for the keys to the shed, though. Jack asked: "Wait, are you carrying that thing around with you?"

Connor actually looked a bit embarrassed by that. "It just keeps screeching whenever I open it. I have no idea what to do with it."

"Neither do I," Jack admitted, feeling faintly relieved. "I think I preferred the ‘unknown danger' part."

"Yeah, but you like _dragons_ ," Connor shot back.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "So? All you're saying here is that I got great taste. Not really insulting me, dude."

Connor laughed and finally got the door open. "You gonna take Charlie Weasley up on his offer then?"

"Don't know yet. Everyone is always talking about quidditch or being an Auror…" Jack trailed off as he grabbed his Comet 2015.

"Dude, tell me about it," Connor sympathized, ushering him outside again.

"What? Don't tell me there's a downside to being the savior of the wizarding world," Jack joked. "I thought it was all flowers and kissing babies and shit." Then he quickly added, "Not," to make sure Connor got his sarcasm.

"Oh yes. So many babies. I can't help myself around babies," Connor deadpans.

"Dude, that sounds so wrong."

"...you know, I've heard a lot of weird stories about myself in the press, but I think sodomizing babies is a new one."

"What can I say," Jack shrugged, "I'm special that way."

"Special. Sure."

"Hey, what are you trying to say?"

Connor just laughed and swung up on his broom, and Jack was quick to follow. They warmed up, then began shooting the shit around, which quickly devolved into a one-on-one match. Connor was fucking amazing, no surprise there, but Jack was holding his own.

After a much longer time than Jack had planned for they landed at the lakefront and collapsed onto the ground, breathless. Jack turned to Connor, intent on chirping him about that last throw that went wide when he saw the look on his face.

Jack waved his hand at him. "Dude? You okay?"

But Connor kept on staring at the space behind him and said in a weird voice: "Dude. Water."

"Yes, that's water in the lake, very well observed."

Connor just waved a hand absently at him. "No, like, the screeching - maybe it's like radio waves or something, except not made for air? We should put it into different situations - fire, maybe? Ice, or at least something very cold? - and open it and see what happens."

"Huh." That was… "That's a pretty smart idea."

Connor winked at him for that. "Not just a pretty face, eh?"

Okay, by now Jack was fairly sure they were flirting, but: "...want me to go so you can try it?"

"What the fuck, no?" Connor had the gall to laugh to at him.

"Just making sure," Jack grumbled. "We're doing a shit job of being rivals right now."

There was a pause.

"Wait, how do you know about radio waves?" In Jack's experience, that wasn't exactly common knowledge among wizards.

"I was raised by muggles," Connor explained, and right. Jack had sort of forgotten about the whole ‘evil overlord killed his parents' thing for a moment here. "And now that I have my own money, I can actually buy physics textbooks. No offense, but if your Muggle Studies are anything like ours, you people are shit at keeping up with science."

"Full offense," Jack said and enjoyed the way Connor actually narrowed his eyes at that, ready for an argument, "cause I'm the only wizard in my family and spend most of my holidays watching tv. I can't help it if our Muggle Studies teacher doesn't listen to me."

"Oh," Connor replied eloquently. Probably thought they were all purebloods down there, but. Jack couldn't fault him for that. He'd been a bit too young to really notice, but apparently admitting Auston had been a total shitshow.

"Well, are you going to dunk it or not?"

"Alright, alright."

Connor took the egg out of the backpack and pushed it under the water. Then, he opened it. Instead of the usual screeching, a chorus of haunting voices arose:

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_  
_We cannot sing above the ground,_  
_And while you're searching ponder this;_  
_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_  
_An hour long you'll have to look,_  
_And to recover what we took,_  
_But past an hour, the prospect's black,_  
_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._

"Well that wasn't ominous at all," Jack commented as it became clear nothing more was forthcoming. "Let me guess, merpeople in this lake?"

Connor looked startled for a second. "Oh. Yeah, Dylan mentioned seeing them sometimes in the Slytherin common room. It's in the dungeons." Who the fuck put kids into a dungeon? "You think it's them?"

"I remember reading their voices can only be understood underwater," Jack admitted sheepishly. "Didn't make the connection to the screeching."

"Guess there's a difference between ‘heard' and ‘understood'."

"Clearly. So if it's their voices and they say going to take something… I'd say: prepare to be underwater for an hour."

"Fun," Connor deadpanned, and wouldn't it just be.

 

Six

 

The next challenge of the tournament was set to begin on a cold November afternoon. Jack was actually feeling good about it - he sort of knew what was coming this time, and he was prepared.

Connor, though, was white-faced, looking much more terrified than he had at their first challenge. Jack raised an eyebrow at him, and Connor whispered: "I can't find Dylan - no one saw her after breakfast."

Immediately, Jack's mind began racing. Was that the ‘what you'll sorely miss'? Had they actually kidnapped _people_? Had he seen Noa after breakfast? Yeah, they'd met in the common room of the dorm while changing for this, though Jack had opted out of lunch. Was Dylan's disappearance unrelated to this challenge, then? That idea was even more disquieting, what with Death Eaters on the rise again and Dylan being their arch enemy's best friend.

From the miserable way Connor looked, he'd thought about that too.

"It'll be fine," Jack offered as quietly as possible. "Get through this first, and if he's not here right after, cheering for you, we're going to search the castle, okay?"

Connor didn't look super reassured by that (Jack wouldn't, either), but he nodded. And then the bell rang and it was time.

"May the best champion win!"

Jack didn't really pay attention to any of that, he as already getting out his wand and the potion Noa had prepared for him. Vaguely, he noticed Connor eating something that looked suspiciously like seaweed and diving into the water, Mitchell whooping in delight from the stands. He was too busy downing the potion (just something to make his cells more malleable) and starting the transformation to check what was happening.

It took him maybe one minute to become partly shark. (Fuck yeah, he was shark head!) It took a lot longer, though, to get through the disorientation caused by the new senses. When he finally got the hang out of it and got to diving, he wasn't sure how much time he had left to find whatever it was to find.

Luckily, he'd picked a river shark. He reached the bottom of the lake quickly and was relieved to see a gaggle of merpeople around two poles and - was that Connor?

Yeah, it was. He holding an unconscious Dylan in his right arm while seemingly - arguing with the merpeople? Jack quietly prayed they didn't have to face off against merpeople underwater directly. He knew he'd lose that one.

But no, Connor just looked relieved when he saw Jack, pointing at him, then one of the poles, with a motion that Jack had no difficulty interpreting as ‘hurry the fuck up'. Jack did.

When he saw what - who - was bound to the pole he was so angry he actually saw white for a second.

That was his sister.

His _Muggle_ sister.

Immediately he charged forward and tore at the ropes holding her to the pole. Luckily, they gave easily, and he soon cradled her close protectively as she'd done to him when they were younger.

These _bastards_. _How dare they_.

He needed to get her to the surface before the hour was up if he was interpreting that horrifying song correctly. When he turned, Connor was already making his way up again, but slowly. Jack was able to catch up very quickly, already overtaking him when he thought - how much time had they left?

Connor had stayed under for longer to try and free Jack's sister.

Jack turned around, careful not to dislodge his sister, and offered Connor his hand. After a moment, Connor took it.

It was considerably harder to swim with three people hanging on, two of them unconscious, but river sharks were strong and fast, and so was Jack. He had them up on the lake shore in no time. (And just in time, as a glance at the giant countdown that had been stopped when they broke the surface told him later. There had been less than two minutes left.)

For now, though, he was busy convulsing while the counter-spell reversed the transformation. Next to him, it sounded like Connor was throwing up. Jack didn't look to check.

As soon as he could breathe air again, he turned to his sister, checking for her pulse. "Jessie? Jessie!"

Luckily for his sanity (and, honestly, the safety of everyone who planned this), she was stirring already, slowly coming to. "Jack?"

"Yeah, Jessie, I'm here, you're safe," he told her, relieved.

It took a moment, but then awareness clearly hit her and she shot up.

"Jack? Why are you - Why am _I_ here?" She looked around wildly. "Where _is_ here?"

"You're in a Canadian wizard school where the organizers of an inter-school tournament kidnapped you and tied you to the bottom of the lake in order to challenge me," he told her bluntly.

She nodded. "Oh, well then. That explains everything."

For a moment, he loved her so much he could hardly stand to breathe, and he had to hug her, wet clothes be damned.

Behind him, Mr. Bettmann's voice rang out: "And the winner of the second round is Jack Eichel with 00:58:16, followed by Connor McDavid, 00:58:18!"

Jessie told him, "We're going to have to talk about what your school considers sports."

 

Five

 

There was a Winter's Ball because of course there was. Why wouldn't anyone want to wear old-fashioned robes and go waltzing in fucking 2016? Made total sense.

"No," Jack had said flatly when he was asked out for the first time. Then he'd run to Noa and said, "So apparently Connor and I need to do the first dance?"

Noa blinked at him. "What's the problem with that? I thought you had the hots for him anyway."

"That's not - anyway, that's not the point. I'm pretty sure we're expected to do it with girls."

She rolled her eyes. "No need to sound so disgusted. Is this your charming way of asking me to the ball?"

"No?" Jack said because he had just been looking to vent about his frustration with the organizers of this tournament. But: "Though actually, you want to? Not like Monique is here."

For a moment, Noa looked wistful, as always when someone mentioned her girlfriend who had stayed behind at Redseth. "Sure."

And that was the supremely romantic reason Jack was currently leading his best friend towards the front of the crowd. Connor was there, too, with a very beautiful Desi girl, and Provorov had apparently been ordered to honor his selection. They didn't have time to do more than say ‘Hi' before a very enthusiastic Ovechkina (dressed in something very red and sparkly, with a vaguely handsome blonde man at her side) bade them to open the festivities.

By dancing the waltz. In front of everyone.

"I'm sure I had nightmares that began like this," Noa muttered to him as they began. "Can you check whether I'm wearing pants? That's the only thing missing."

"Pretty sure that's a skirt, Nole," Jack whispers back. "You really want me to check what's underneath in front of these people?"

"Try it and I'll break your wrist." Then, cause clearly waltzing is a rather boring, routine thing for her, she added, "At least it doesn't look like Connor is into his girl much, either. No need to be jealous."

Jack thought about protesting, but instead glanced over at Connor, who - "ouch, that poor girl's feet."

"You're not much better."

"I'm so sorry," Jack apologized sarcastically, though he did try hard not to do it again. At least he'd gotten permission to wear a Muggle suit for this. Imagine doing this shit in robes.

Finally, they were able to withdraw to the sidelines as everyone else filled in the floor, only to be greeted by one of the reporters. "So is this your girlfriend, then, Jack?" the woman asked.

"No," Noa and Jack answered at the same time and discreetly exchanged a fist bump.

"Aww, young love," the reporter cooed, "Noa, how does it feel to be dating a champion?"

"You can just admit to it baby," Jack put on in his best sleazy voice, slinging an arm around Noa's waist, "I'm the best after all."

"Such a stud," Noa fake-sighed, leaning into him so he could whisper into her ear: "Run away in five?"

She nodded, and as the reporter, looking suspicious, began to ask: "Are you mocking-" they broke off into different directions at top speed, Noa into the crowd, Jack towards the terraces. Not exactly good school representative behavior, but fuck it, they'd told him to dance the first waltz with a girl and he'd done that, so that was his quota filled for the day.

The air outside felt like heaven. Here, only faint strands of the music were still audible, the air was free of perfume and there were no people watching and crowding close. It was even too early in the evening for couples to be looking for a quiet place to make out.

He only had two minutes of being alone, though, before a quiet voice asked: "Can I join you?"

Jack almost gasped. "Only if you stop sneaking up on me, Jesus, Connor, how silent are you."

For a moment, they stood there in comfortable silence, then Connor offered: "I'm pretty sure one of your fellow students - Matthews? - is bent on seducing Mitch. It's cute."

"Oh, _that's_ why he's been hanging out around the Gryffindor table, then," Jack laughed. "Don't worry, he's a good one."

Connor rolled his eyes. "I'm not worried - though what a vote of confidence that is - more dreading the dreamy sighs I have to look forward to for the next, I don't know, year."

Jack laughed. "And where's that girl whose feet you bruised?"

"She approached me about Dylan. He had already technically asked out someone, so we kinda decided she'd sacrifice herself for that horrible dance and then I'd abandon her so he'd cheer her up. Or something. This is really not my forte."

"That sounds like something out of a soap opera."

"Isn't that what high school is supposed to be like?" Connor asked wryly. He probably wouldn't know, Jack realized, thinking of all those news articles about escaped criminals threatening Connor's life, basilisks killing students and fake defense against the dark arts teachers seeking immortality. If only half that shit was true, Connor's school experience had to have been rather different from the average student.

"Wanna get drunk?" he asked abruptly.

"Pretty sure nobody has spiced the pumpkin punch yet."

Jack rolled his eyes. "We don't need no fucking pumpkin punch for that. Good at transformations, remember?"

Maybe it was showing off a little bit, but he did enjoy the light in Connor's eyes when he transformed a flower into a bottle of vodka. And if he enjoyed Connor snuggling into his side as they talked and drank the evening away even more, then that was nobody else's business.

 

Four

 

The first thing Jack did when he entered the labyrinth was to use a malleable protego. It took a moment and made him feel drained, but he was under no illusion that this was an exercise in map-drawing. He remembered that story about the minotaur, man. (A lot of those legends had taken on a whole new meaning once he'd learned about magic.)

That done, he eyed the first split in the path in front of him. He was pretty sure Connor, who had entered just before him as the one with slightly more points overall, had turned left. So, in the end, he went right.

For a minute he was able to walk along the path as he pleased. Then a gigantic fucking spider came around the corner. It took a second for Jack to keep himself from running away screaming - _too many legs_ \- and throw a blasting curse at it.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, this time with a binding spell.

Nothing.

Then he finally understood. "Ridikkulus!!"

The spider toppled over, deprived of all his legs. Jack didn't really feel like laughing, honestly, but it was enough for him to gingerly step past the thing. Fucking boggarts.

Another seven or eight turns brought him up against a sphinx. Like. Talk about Greek myths. She was huge - a giant lion's body with a woman's head looking haughtily at him.

"Wow, you're beautiful."

She preened a bit at that - cats - and it reminded Jack that he was dealing with a highly intelligent creature here (that, in fact, was only classified as creature by their own wishes in solidarity with the merpeople and the centaurs.)

"I will give you a riddle, young man, and you will have three choices." Her voice was deep and pleasant with a faint accent. "What you seek is behind me. Choose silence, and find another way. Speak the answer, and I will let you pass. Speak wrongly, and I will attack."

Jack was pretty sure he was going to choose silence here - after all, he wasn't great at riddles and had absolutely no desire to try to fight this sphinx - but he indicated that he was listening.

She spoke: "What is that which in the morning goes upon four feet, upon two feet in the afternoon, and in the evening upon three?"

….waaaait.

"Humans," Jack said, half-thinking it couldn't be that easy - surely everyone knew the answer to that one?

Then again - wizards.

"Toddlers crawl on all fours, adults walk on two legs, and seniors use a cane," he explained.

The sphinx nodded, to his intense relief. "Very good. You may pass."

"Thank you," he said courteously and bowed. Then he walked past her and immediately saw Connor. He was battling a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Jack felt his face scrunch up in distaste. Whoever had decided to cross a manticore and fire crab deserved some jail time. (And should please write Jack how the fuck they managed that particular coupling. Or had wizards finally caught on to gene technology?)

Connor was having problems, though. No wonder, beasts were fucking tough, not to mention the fire and the lethal sting.

"Hit him on the belly, that's the only weakness!" Jack shouted, sprinting up to the other side of the beast.

He couldn't see whether Connor heard him, so he just fired up his own blasting spell to dislodge the creature. Then an explosion of white and red hit the Skrewt and it toppled over. Immediately, Jack shouted "Stupefy!", could see the same spell leave Connor's wand.

The creature twitched, then it laid still.

Jack exhaled slowly. Then he looked up to see Connor staring at him.

"You okay?" he asked, not really knowing what was appropriate in this situation.

Connor nodded. "You?"

"Yeah."

Connor pointed behind him. Now that he was looking, Jack saw a large golden trophy just… standing there, maybe twenty feet behind him.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

He kinda expected Connor to go for it, wasn't quite sure why he himself was only slowly stepping around the Skrewt instead of running for victory.

As if by unspoken agreement, they walk together, shoulder to shoulder, to the trophy. One touch and one of them would be the winner, but neither of them reached out.

"Together?" Connor asked, and Jack could see he was smiling.

He took Connor's hand with his own. "Together."

They touched the trophy with their linked hands.

Everything went blurry and disorienting. Jack was struggling to not throw up, holding on to Connor's hand as it was the only thing keeping him standing - fucking hell, what enchantment had they put on this thing? Another test? - when he heard a voice say: "I don't need the other one. Avada Kedabra."

There was a green flash, and then there was darkness.

 

Three

 

It took him a while to return to consciousness. Even when he was aware that he really needed to move, that something was _wrong wrong wrong_ , he couldn't move. Thank God for the protego spell, but someone had just tried to _kill_ him. It took as second to recover from that.

Oh God. Connor.

"Don't do this, you know what he'll do to us, to everyone," he heard, and that was Connor's voice. Jack would be relieved, except Connor sounded terrified.

"Oh yes, I know exactly what he'll do," someone replied. It sounded familiar, but Jack couldn't place it. "We got what we want from you. Start the ritual!"

There was hissing and chanting. Connor was so quiet that Jack grew afraid for him again, but he didn't think it was a good idea to open his eyes when he couldn't even feel his legs yet.

Where had his wand fallen?

"Ah, finally," a different voice said, "back in my own body, and look who's there to celebrate? Little Connor McDavid, all grown up."

And Jack grew chilled to the bone.

Because there was only one person who had, according to rumors, been without a body for almost exactly seventeen years now. One person who had a voice like snakes hissing and followers who wouldn't hesitate to kill a muggle-born because he was in the way. One person who had reason to hate Connor McDavid more than anyone else in this world.

"Voldemort," Connor said. His voice was a lot calmer than Jack's internal monolog slash screaming. He sounded almost… resigned.

That wouldn't do. If only Jack could move.

"You could still join me, you know. My followers have disappointed me greatly." Suddenly Voldemort's (if Connor could say it, then so could Jack) voice grew louder, more pointed, and Jack could hear an uneasy murmur as if produced by a crowd. Just by how many people were they surrounded? "Only one of you was loyal enough to act - to bring me what I needed - and he will be rewarded."

"Thank you, Master," that familiar voice said. Jack was beginning to place it - one of the judges? The thin, quiet one, maybe. Fucking hell.

He could feel pins and needles starting in his legs and hands. Good. The pain meant he was going to be able to move soon.

Jack silently willed Connor to stay alive long enough for that.

"So you see - there is room for you to grow, here. Become something great," Voldemort told Connor.

"Never," was the answer. Jack mentally cursed. Connor could at least have bought them some time by negotiating or whatever, instead of being all amazing and noble.

Of course, Connor probably didn't know there was a _them_ to buy time for.

"Then you're going to die like your mother - screaming," Voldemort sneered, "Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!" Connor yelled at the same time, and there was the sound of an explosion, then something hissing like a laser sword. The invisible crowd was shouting in surprise.

Then Voldemort spoke again. "Don't interfere. But how long will you be able to stand this, boy? How much do you really have to live for?"

Jack thought that he had mostly had his control over his arms and head back, even part of his feet, and that that would just have to _do_ because Connor wasn't answering and Jack wasn't going to listen to him die.

He opened his eyes and shifted.

This wasn't like the river shark. This was _his_ body, the form that was almost as natural to him by now as his human one. It only took seconds to orient himself, see Connor holding his wand into a ray of light and grab him while the Death Eaters were too astonished to react. Then he swept down and crashed against the trophy lying forgotten on the ground, gripping it with one talon, holding on as tightly as he could as everything swirled and bumped and they fell out of the sky in front of a crowd of astonished students and teachers.

 

Two

 

This time, it was Jack who snuck up on Connor.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked the bundle that was sitting hunched under the tree. At least Connor had thought to bring a blanket. "Me neither."

Connor lifted the edge of the blanket in invitation. "Come here," he said, and Jack did, pulling Connor to his chest for good measure, the blanket around both of them. He needed the contact right now, and Connor looked like he did, too.

They hadn't seen each other since they were whisked away by ministry officials, and then their teachers, for questioning. Jack took a minute just to appreciate the feeling of Connor breathing next to him.

Connor's thoughts seemed to run along the same line because he whispered: "I thought - I thought you were dead."

"Nah. Had a protego spell on. Knocked me out good, though. Sorry about that."

Connor actually hit him for that. It hurt. "Don't. You saved me."

"So did you. And ow, by the way." Jack thought for a moment. "Actually, mind telling me what exactly happened? I started tuning in by the time they did the resurrection - re-bodying - you know what I mean."

There's laughter in Connor's voice when he agrees, "I do." Jack was kinda proud of himself, even if it hadn't been meant to be a joke, just his tiredness making itself known.

"How much do you know of - well - Voldemort?" Connor asked.

"Evil bastard," Jack replied immediately. "Muggle-hater, obsessed with all that pureblood bullshit. Basically had taken over the wizarding world as a dictator until he tried to kill baby-you and somehow couldn't, so he sort of died." For a moment, he considered congratulating Connor on a job well done, but it probably would have come off as a bit sarcastic considering the events of today. "The rest is rumors only, and my suspicion that probably a lot more wizards were on his side than admit to today."

Connor snorted. "Seeing how many people there were there today, I'd say that's right." A pause, then: "He killed my parents first, you know. I see it every time I face a dementor."

Jack pulled him closer, squeezed him a bit. Connor sounded too matter of fact as he continued: "My father tried to buy us time to flee, so he died first. Voldemort offered to let my mother live, but she died protecting me. It's what saved me, Mr. Crosby says. Her love, like a shield."

Jack thought of his own mother, of what he and his sister would for to each other, and said: "She must be so glad."

Connor swallowed. "I… I have this scar, still." He pulled back a bit to show Jack the lightning scar on his neck. Jack knew that part, of course, everyone did, but this close, Connor's neck looked vulnerable. He wanted to lean forward and kiss it, take some of that pain away. Instead, he placed his left hand there, hoping to provide some kind of comfort.

"It's been hurting whenever Voldemort was close, and since today… well." Connor didn't finish the sentence, and Jack didn't make him. Instead, Connor explained: "That's why they took my blood from me, I think, for the resurrection. So the protection my mother gave me doesn't work against him anymore."

"And Alexander James helped with that. Laid the trap." It was more of a statement than a question at this point. James had disappeared, but Jack knew what he'd heard, and someone had to enchant that trophy to bring them to Voldemort. They probably thought Jack wouldn't get past the sphinx. Or they just hadn't cared.

"Yes."

"Asshole."

"Yes."

"So what was with the whole," Jack waved his free hand around tiredly, "light and laser show?"

Connor leaned into him. "His wands and mine are twins. Like, the cores are from the tail of the same phoenix. Apparently, it's not that easy to turn them against each other."

The chain of coincidences that led to Connor and him surviving this day - a Muggle riddle by a Sphinx, a protective transformation just out of caution, the decision to win together, a phoenix with two tail feathers, the illegal experiments Noa and him had spent their fifth year on - was immense and, frankly, terrifying.

"I could have sworn I heard my parents in there," Connor continued quietly, "telling me to keep going, that I was going to be okay. And then you came."

"One day, I'll take you flying properly," Jack promised him.

"I'd like that."

"That is unless Bettman goes through with threat to, I don't know, incarcerate me for the illegal animagus thing."

Connor snorted. "Then he'd have to admit why you used it when the spectators saw that you didn't shift in the arena. I think you're safe."

"They didn't believe you either, did they?" Jack asked.

Connor shook his head. "No. I mean, I think some of the teachers did? But the ministry is about to put its head in the sand, I'm pretty sure."

"Great." He hesitated. "What does that mean for you?"

"It means they'll let him amass his followers and come back. It means I'll fight, alone if need be," Connor replied. He managed to look both determined and exhausted about it.

"As if your friends will let you do this alone," Jack told him, outraged. "You shithead. Thanks to you, we've grown up in a world without Voldemort, and we won't go back to that. Pretty sure most of Dinweth will stand with you if you call." He swallowed. "You got me if you want."

Connor looked at him for one moment. Then he took Jack's hand and pressed a kiss to the palm.

It was enough of an answer.

 

One

 

"Jack, there's a call for you," Charlie called from the side of the enclosure. Jack wanted to wave him off - he'd just started buffing the Clouded Walker's tail, he could call Jessie back later.

"It's Connor, and it's urgent."

Well, that sure got Jack running.

He hadn't spoken to Connor in months. It had been better while they finished their respective school years (evil apparently didn't wait until the end of the year, and escaping a dark lord didn't equal successful graduation,) with frequent letters and fire talks. Then Voldemort had begun to openly attack people, and Connor had gone underground with Dylan and Mitch.

News from North America hadn't been good. The only reason Jack knew Connor was even alive was because he was sure the Death Eaters would have gloated about killing him.

"Connor?" He panted into the phone.

"Jack," Connor answered, "they're coming for Dinweth. We're going to meet them."

There was a lot Jack wanted to ask. How are you? Are you okay? How many of your friends died already? Did you have to kill someone?

"Portkey point still in the woods?" He asked instead.

"Yes."

"Set it for in an hour. I will let Redseth know, too. We'll be there, Connor."

"I -", there was a sound in the background, and he could hear Connor curse quietly and say quietly, "Got to go. Take care, Jack."

"You too," Jack told the disconnected line.

He took a deep breath, pushing down all the emotions that wanted to rise in him. Then he took the Floo powder and threw it into the fire. Noa was already waiting for him in her living room at the keeper's lodge in Redseth.

"Mitch called Auston," she said as soon as she saw his disembodied head. "He's calling people together."

"Good. See you there, then?"

She smiled. It didn't even look strained. "Meet you there. Don't be late."

He snorted and pulled his head out of the chimney, only to turn and see Charlie standing behind him, along with three of the other keepers. "We're coming. My brothers are in that school. My family will be there."

Jack smiled. "Good. That will make it much easier."

They looked baffled for a moment, then Charlie smiled. "We're taking the dragons."

"Of course we are." Not the young or the very old, nor the young mothers. But Jack would really like to see the Death Eaters face a few horntails. It might even be enough to win this.

Maybe.

Either way, he was going to see Connor again today.


End file.
